


The Work Hope Can Do

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Domestic, Fal-tor-pan, M/M, Post-Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: Spock hasn't been able to regain many of the memories he lost during the fal-tor-pan. Kirk calls upon his old friend McCoy to move in with Spock and help him through the recovery process.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for the TOS Spones Challenge. The theme of the challenge was AU.

"Can you do me a favor?" Kirk says.

 

McCoy looks up from where he's been contemplating the glass of whisky in his hand.

 

They've known each other for a long time, forever really, him and Kirk. For all that they haven't been in the same place much. Kirk has spent so many year captaining the _Enterprise_ , off on the far edges of space. McCoy has been senior medical officer on one deep space station after another before finally ending up back on Earth working as faculty at Starfleet Medical.

 

Even so they always tried to keep in touch as much as was possible. When, now Admiral, Kirk had ended up back on Earth too they'd fallen into a quiet routine of dinner, drinks and conversation at least once a week.  

 

It had been good and McCoy had let himself hope Kirk might settle down like that. Let himself be involved in politics, bureaucracy and teaching. Give younger crews a chance to explore space in his stead.

 

But of course he hadn't.

 

Kirk is still hesitating like he's not quite sure how to continue the conversation.

 

McCoy lets him think about it, work around to whatever it is Kirk wants to ask him. It must be one hell of a favor to make James T. Kirk this unsure.

 

"You know about Captain Spock of course." Kirk says tone grave and still too hesitant.

 

McCoy puts down his glass of whisky and gives Kirk his full attention. He does know about Captain Spock, knows about his death, Kirk's bout of full on mutiny in order to collect his body, and his strange rebirth.

 

He knows because rumors and stories of it had been all over Starfleet. Probably the only reason why it wasn't still the foremost topic of gossip around Starfleet because they'd all almost died from lack of whales a short time after.

 

He'd also gotten the whole story, haltingly and painfully at times, from Kirk including details he doubts anyone else in Starfleet knows. Not that McCoy is planning on spreading them around.  

 

For all that he's never met Captain Spock in more than passing before.

 

Kirk licks his lips. "I'm worried about him. The fal-tor-pan isn't exactly an exact science, or science at all. I'm not sure I understood what it was. But when it was done he  ... couldn't remember anything. Except for my name." Kirk stares down at the whisky in his gass, doesn't look at McCoy. "After that no one really knew what to expect but he seemed to be getting better. He knew people, remembered things. So when he wanted to come back with us, stand trial with the rest of the crew I thought ... well it was his choice, it's not like I could really stop him. But mostly I was just grateful to have him back, there with us." Kirk sighs, leans back in his chair, finally meets McCoy's gaze square on. "The truth is he's not fully recovered. There are a lot of things he doesn't remember. He's not hiding that, at least not from Starfleet. He's not been cleared for any duties. But still, Spock can seem very competent and in control of himself even when he's not. It isn't even that he's Vulcan, it's part of who Spock is. I know he doesn't remember a lot more than he admits." Kirk takes a breath, visibly steels himself. "He owns a house within walking distance of both the Vulcan Embassy and Starfleet. I know you've been talking about moving out of that awful faculty apartment you're in. I thought you two could move in together."

 

McCoy opens his mouth to protest but Kirk jumps in before he can.

  
"Actually I'm asking you to move in with him. I'd feel so much better if he had someone with medical training there. Observing him, finding out what's really going on. How much he remembers or doesn't. Someone who could help him. Please Bones."

 

Kirk looks painfully earnest, hands clasped in front of him. McCoy doesn't doubt Kirk's concern and Kirk has known Spock for a long time, as seen him under all sorts of stressors so the concern probably isn't ill founded.

 

On the other hand McCoy doesn't know Captain Spock and from the sound of it the man likes his space, as does McCoy. He's not voluntarily shared living quarters with anyone since his divorce nor has he had the desire to.

 

He sighs, picks back up his glass of whisky and takes a sip. Kirk only ever buys the good stuff, it burns, rich and smokey all the way down.

 

"I'll think about it." He says.

 

That seems to be enough because Kirk nods and sit back looking satisfied.

 

***

Kirk was being tactful about McCoy's apartment, it's a shit hole.

 

Starfleet's faculty housing are long rows of identical, tiny, boxy structures, easy walking distance from Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Medical. Inside is area half living room half kitchenette so small McCoy can practically reach out an arm while sitting on the couch and touch the kitchen replicator built into the back wall. The bedroom is only big enough for a regulation sized bunk, an equally tiny bathroom and an office in back the size of most closets.

 

These places aren't meant to be permanent. Just a place for newly appointed faculty, mostly coming from off world, to stay while they look for more long term housing.

 

Except that McCoy's been here six, almost seven, years and he still hasn't moved out. He's still tripping over the stack of PADDs he'd left by the couch while trying to get to the bedroom, taking showers in a bathroom he can't turn all the way around in without banging a knee or elbow on something.

 

He's talked about moving out more than enough times. Complained to Kirk, Joanna and anyone else who will listen about the lack of space. How much he'd like to have a garden and patio so he can sit outside in the evening, feet up and look at the stars or host a real old fashioned barbecue.

 

He never goes through with it though and he has to admit to himself that unless something happens he probably never will.

 

Well now something has happened.

 

McCoy opens all the windows to let some of the warm spring air in and calls up a glass of ice tea on the replicator. If he had a bigger kitchen he could make it the old fashioned way like he prefers but he's spent enough time on space stations not the mind the replicated stuff.

 

He sits on his couch and looks out of the biggest window in the place down the hill to Starfleet campus, spread out and glittering all sleek and modern in the sun.

 

A house Kirk had said and presumably Captain Spock had already consented to the idea. At least McCoy hopes Kirk's plan wasn't to have McCoy say yes and then use that to pressure Spock into doing it.   

 

Kirk had said Spock was suffering from extensive memory loss. McCoy has worked with patients who'd suffered memory loss before, mostly due to severe head trauma but in those cases the memory loss was accompanied by other mobility and cognitive impairments. That doesn't seem to be the case though with Captain Spock.

 

McCoy stands and goes through to his office where his computer terminal is.

 

"Computer access full medical records for Captain Spock." McCoy says and gives his access codes. His rank means there shouldn't be that much he can't access no matter how classified.

 

He watches Spock's Starfleet medical files scroll across the screen along with reports from Vulcan. He skims over the early stuff and then reads the most recent entries carefully along with all of the information from Vulcan about the fal-tor-pan and Spock's initial recovery.

 

It's ... fascinating.

 

And as far as McCoy can tell completely unprecedented. He can think of half a dozen Starfleet medical officers who specialize in trauma recovery or neurology who'd kill to have the opportunity to work with Spock and observe him one on one.  

 

He closes Spock's medical file and calls up his Starfleet service record instead. There's an image at the top, a Starfleet official portrait. Spock in his Captain's uniform, back straight, gaze direct, hands clasped behind his back. All right and correct.

 

Dark hair, dark eyes, face angular and only starting to soften with age.

 

He looks as serious and reserved as every other Vulcan McCoy has ever met. But there is something about his eyes.

 

McCoy looks at the image for a long time.

 

Then he closes out all of Spock's files and calls Jim.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy and Spock meet for the first time.

McCoy does not want to turn up on Spock's doorstep, unannounced with all his worldly possessions, and  _ Hi there! Jim Kirk sent me!  _ as his own explanation for being there. 

 

So he arranges to meet with Spock, at the house so he can see the place and Spock and him can talk before either of them make any final decisions. 

 

He ends up coming straight from Starfleet Medical, which means he's in uniform although he does clean up a bit, making sure he's presentable for he leaves. 

 

It's not a bad walk from Starfleet to the address Kirk had sent him. Easy even with McCoy not moving as fast as he used to. There's one of those hover trolleys too that seems to go back and forth quite close by. 

 

The property is encircled by a tan, stone wall with a gate. A little extra security measure since Spock is both a high ranking Starfleet officer and the son of an ambassador. 

 

McCoy enters his Starfleet security code, which seems to be good enough for the computer because after a second the gate opens for him. 

 

Beyond is a paved stone courtyard, in a decidedly Vulcan style, leading up to the house. 

 

It's not what McCoy would call homey but it is elegant, the paving stones forming intricate geometric patterns across the space. 

 

The house itself is single story, managing to marry a fluidity of shape with perfect geometry of line. It seems to rise organically from the ground while also appearing as perfectly functional and slightly steril as any lab. 

 

This too is obviously in the Vulcan style. 

 

It is a little off putting in that he's never seen an Earth building that looked quite like it even though the view beyond the house is still the sweep of San Francisco with the blue sky above and harbor beyond it. 

 

He steps under the little stone portico and presses the buzzer. 

 

There's a moment and then the door slides open and Captain Spock is standing on the other side. 

 

For a moment his gaze landing on McCoy is questioning and then expression smooths away into recognition. 

 

"Doctor McCoy. Captain Kirk told me you were coming unless I am mistaken." 

 

Spock's voice is deeper than McCoy had been expecting. His words low and precise in a way that seems go straight through McCoy and lodge in his chest. 

 

He's taller too, McCoy has to tilt his face up a little to meet his gaze.

 

"Ah yes," He clears his throat, almost offers Spock his hand before remembering Vulcan don't shake. Gives him a formal little nod instead. "I hope Jim also explained the rest of it." 

 

"I believe so." Spock inclines his head as well and steps back so McCoy can enter the house. "Jim purposes that we live together, temporarily, as part of my recovery from the pal-tor-pan. It is a logical arrangement, provided you are willing to live here with me."

 

McCoy feels a small wash of relief that Kirk had actually talked to Spock about this like he'd promised and that Spock was onboard with the idea. 

 

The inside of the house feels lighter and more open than he somehow expected the walls a clean white, the doorways naturalistic curves rather than hard angels although they are each equipped with standard sliding doors. 

 

Spock guides him out of the entry hall through a doorway to their right into the kitchen. 

 

It's a large and airy, with a island in the middle of the room to eat at and an actual stove and plenty of counter space to took at rather than just a replicator. 

 

"It's nice in here." McCoy says both for lack of something better to say but also because it is. 

 

Spock doesn't answer him, just nods a little. He's not wearing a uniform or anything regulation, instead he's dressed in one of those big, ornate robes McCoy has seen Vulcan's wear. Black, with voluminous sleeves and some kind of bronze adornment or broach that spells out words in Vulcan affixed to his left shoulder. It almost certainly has some important meaning but McCoy's Vulcan isn't good enough for him to know what. 

 

He isn't sure if it's the robes or just the way Spock is but all of Spock's movements seem as measured and graceful as his words. An air of quiet dignity and authority Spock seems to wear without even trying. It's hard for McCoy to remind himself that technically Spock is younger than he is and they are, if not equal in rank and experience, than close. 

 

Spock lets him poke around the kitchen for a few minutes before leading the way through the arched doorway at the far end of the room, which turns out leads to the living room, or whatever the Vulcan equivalent is.

 

McCoy spots the arched entryway leads back out into the hall and realizes that this room more or less sits at the center of the house. There are a few other closed doors leading off this room as well but mostly his impression is open space. So many windows. The walls that don't have doorways in them have huge expanses of unencumbered view instead. 

 

Each of these windows look out into the sides and back of the house, not the front courtyard. He'd expected more of the same cool geometric stones. Instead what he sees is green. There are flowers here, great swaths of color and fruit trees growing up against the wall that encloses the property, their branches carefully pruned so as not to exceed it in height. No geometric neatness here, if there is a pattern in the chaos of green growing things and blumes McCoy can't see it. 

 

The biggest of the windows looks to open so that people can walk straight into the garden from the back of the house. McCoy bets that if he were to go out there he'd be able to standing in the garden see out across Starfleet and San Francisco. 

 

"Your garden is beautiful." He doesn't mean for it to come out so enraptured but there it is.

 

"Thank you Doctor McCoy." 

 

That voice again, so deep, so controlled. 

 

Maybe it's not just the garden.

 

_ Don't be a fool Leonard.   _ McCoy tells himself,  _ you have to live with this man, for all intents and purposes he'll be your patient.  _

 

That thought does make it a little bit easier actually, McCoy knows how to handle patients. 

 

"I can show you your more private living quarters." Spock says, walking around McCoy to one of the closed doors leading off this main room, he touches the pad next to the door and it unlocks and slides open. 

 

Beyond it is a large bedroom bathed in sunlight from another huge window. There's a spacious bath attached, and an office that's larger than McCoy's living room and kitchenette combined. 

 

"My own rooms are next door." Spocks says but doesn't offer to show them to McCoy. He stand in the wide empty space of McCoy soon to be bedroom and tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe instead. "Do you find the living space satisfactory?" 

 

"It is, yes." McCoy turns in a slow circle. "So, I can have my things moved in by the end of the week if that works for you." 

 

Spock nods. 

 

McCoy comes to a stop, facing Spock directly, his expression goes seriously. "The main reason I'm going to be living here is to help with your recovery, and the most important part of that is going to be communication. You have to tell me about the symptoms you experience, lapses in memory, any episodes of confusion or disorientation, any bouts of fatigue or dizziness. I am going to have to know about it all. Kirk says your private and I respect that but you're going to have to open up with me, at least where the residual effects of the fal-tor-pan are concerned."

 

Spock arches an eyebrow at him. "Of course Doctor, to do otherwise would be most illogical." 

 

McCoy lets out his breath in a small huff. "Well good. This'll work best if we're on the same page." 

 

"Indeed." Spock gives him another look, unemotional and properly Vulcan but with something else lurking underneath that McCoy can't quite put his finger on. 

 

With one of those graceful sweeping motions Spock turns back to the doorway. 

 

McCoy follows him out. "Do you work these days or are you here?" He knows from Spock's file that as far as Starfleet was concerned Spock is on extended medical leave.  

 

"I do spend some hours everyday at the Vulcan, observing my father. I will after all be taking over my father's position once I retire from Starfleet, the Vulcan Council has already decided it." Spock's tone gives McCoy no clue of how Spock feels about this. 

 

It's probably good for Spock, having his time structured by a job that surrounds him with people and tasks, McCoy assumes, he's familiar with. McCoy still has no clearer idea what the span of Spock's memory loss is. He's obviously functional in many ways and Kirk had said he had regained many skills during his initial stay on Vulcan. According to his medical records though there is a lot of Spock's prior experiences in Starfleet he can't remember, nuances of his relationship with fellow officers that are just gone. Yet there must be more than that to worry Kirk so.

 

_ Spock can seem very competent and in control of himself even when he's not, _ Kirk had said. 

 

Now that they'd met McCoy can see what Kirk was referring to. He'll need to keep it in mind as they work together.   

 

"Well I'll have my classes at Starfleet Medical. Once I'm moved in we can go over our schedules so we'll know when the other is work and when we'll be at home." 

 

Spock nods finding that reasonable. 

 

There is mats laid out in the mainroom, the sort Vulcan's usually sit or kneel on when they meditate. There is also a low, curved piece furniture that reminds McCoy of a couch. Spock settles himself on it, with a small tweak of his robes. 

 

After a moment's hesitation so does McCoy.  "Can you tell me about the symptoms you've been experiencing?" 

 

"It is difficult to identify a lack of knowledge." Spock steeples his fingers together. "I often don't realize something is missing until it is pointed out to me by Jim, my father or a former  _ Enterprise _ crew member who I served with. There are times though when I notice information is missing. Things I know I once knew, procedures, Starfleet regulations, facts, aspects of Vulcan history even. " 

 

He contemplates his fingers for a few moments in silence. "My experiences as second in command of the  _ Enterprise _ during our five year mission into uncharted space is ... dim. I know it is there. I have read through all of Starfleet's files on the subject. But when I reach for individual memories, try to recall even general information of our missions it is as if my mind is shrouded in mist. I can recall nothing clearly. More troubling I think is that I seem to lose recent pieces of information. Not all the time you understand but sometimes a person will tell me something and I can not later recall the particulars of what they said only that we had spoken. "  

 

McCoy thinks about this, it fits with what he'd read in Spock's files. "It seems like your brain is having difficulty both retrieving information and creating new memories." 

 

The Starfleet doctors who'd already worked with Spock had done all the expected tests, taking all the standard scans and readings along with some nonstandard ones. Physically though Spock does not display the kind of brain activity or physical symptoms one would expect to see in a patient with these issues. 

 

"I would say that is a correct summary of the facts." Spock says.

 

"All right." McCoy stands. "I'll come with with a series of tests we'll run when either of us notices any of these lapses in new memories. As far as you recalling the olders ones, I'll think about it, see if I can come up with any strategies or tests your doctors haven't already thought of. Besides from that I suggest you carry a portable recording device with you at all times, to take notes." 

 

Spock raises his eyebrows at McCoy again. "Yes Doctor. I had already thought of that." If he weren't Vulcan McCoy would swear his tone is dryly ironic.

 

"Well good." McCoy stands feeling a little foolish. "There will be someone around tomorrow morning to move in some of my things, probably while we're both at work."

 

Spock removes a small note taking device from the sleeve of his robe and makes a note. "I will update the security program for the outer perimeter and the front door accordingly."  He makes another note and then rises as well. 

 

"It was good to meet you." McCoy says. 

 

"Likewise Doctor. I think our arrangement will be satisfactory for both of us." 

 

McCoy looks up at Spock, at those serious dark eyes and hopes he's right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. Hopefully I will be able to get another chapter up within the next week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of memories.

It took them a good twenty-four hours after McCoy moved in before Spock had his first serious lapse of memory. 

 

McCoy comes out of his room that second morning, still in his pajamas, beard stubble across his jaw, with his brain still muzzy from sleep. He isn't thinking of anything more complicated than getting a cup of coffee into his system as he padded across the living room, towards the kitchen.

 

Spock is already in the kitchen, dressed in one of his dark robes, making himself a cup of tea that smelled strong and rather spicy. 

 

He turns as McCoy came into the room and his face going still and completely blank.

 

They stare at each other. McCoy realizes Spock doesn't know who he is. 

 

He opens his mouth to say something, he's not sure what in his sleep addled state, but before he can something behind Spock's eyes changes, like a light being turned on in a dark room. 

 

"Doctor McCoy." He says smoothly. "Good morning." 

 

McCoy swallows, licks his lips, manages to mumble "Good morning" and staggers around Spock to the replicator to get himself some coffee.

 

By the time he's drunk half a cup and his brain has started working again Spock is already gone, having taken his own tea back into his private rooms. 

 

McCoy considers going and pounding Spock's door so they can talk about it, but he doesn't want to overstep his bounds so early in the game. If Spock wants to talk he'll come to McCoy.

 

He makes himself another cup of coffee and goes back into his own rooms to make a note of the incident before taking a shower. 

 

When he gets to his office at Starfleet Medical he finds list of the doctors who'd worked with Spock after the pal-tor-pan and calls every single one of them. 

 

They are all varying degrees of unhelpful. Spock doesn't show any other normal symptoms of memory loss, he has none of the physiological signs of memory loss and he's responded to none of the therapies that had been tried. 

 

"His memories may come back on their own. " Vulteth, the leading expert on neurological trauma on Vulcan, tells him over the computer. "Or it may not."  

 

McCoy sighs, then thanks her for her time and ends the call. 

 

Maybe she's right, McCoy thinks looking back over Spock's file one more time. If there is no normal treatment than maybe the best thing to do is wait, watch Spock, and see what happens. 

 

***

 

"You served on space stations did you not? Before coming to Earth to teach at Starfleet Medical." Spock says, one evening after they've eaten. 

 

They are both in the livingroom area sitting on opposite sides of the couch. Spock has a cup of that spicy tea he likes clasped between his hands. 

 

"Yeah." McCoy looks up from his PADD where he's been grading some student papers and sets it aside. "I served as chief medical officer on three space stations. Two local and one deep space. Why?" 

 

"I am just interested in your differing experience." Spock says. 

 

"You mean what was it like?" McCoy thinks about it for a moment. "I'm not sure I can really compare it to serving aboard a starship since I was never a member of a starship crew but I guess my impression of it was that space stations are more stable somehow, you know? More like being on a planet even the ones that weren't much bigger than a starship anyway. The local ones all had a fairly large communities of civilians, which makes it feel different, gives it a different community dynamic. Even the deep space station where we were all Starfleet personnel it just felt more grounded. We weren't flying towards trouble all the damn time, trouble had to come to us."

 

He expects Spock to say something cuttingly Vulcan but he stays quiet instead. 

 

"What was it like for you, on the  _ Enterprise _ ?" McCoy asks interested both in Spock's answer and to see how much of his Starfleet experience he can call up. 

 

Spock doesn't answer for so long McCoy almost gives up and goes back to his grading.

 

"I remember my cabin smelled of metal and new plastic." Spock says finally, his gaze distant, speech a little halting as if he's pulling each word from someplace deep inside him. "Even after we'd been in space for years. I used to burn incense, the ones that reminded me of Vulcan but the smell never really went away. Illogical that it should have bothered me." His eyes slide shut as if that will help him more clearly recall the details. "I remember playing chess with Jim, making him laugh although that was never my intent. I remember Nyota singing." He opens his eyes looks at McCoy. "Flying towards trouble you said. Yes, I remember that." 

 

"Nyota?" McCoy asks and Spock's gaze flickers away. 

 

"Lieutenant Uhura, a fellow member of the bridge crew." 

 

_ A friend. _ McCoy thinks but Spock doesn't say anything more. McCoy wonders if Spock doesn't recall enough about their friendship to call her that. It's one thing to remember being someone's friend, spending time with them, serving aboard a Starship with them. It's totally different to be told you're friends with someone you can barely remember even knowing. It must be disorienting to be outside your own life like that.  

 

"Danger, do you remember what kind?" 

 

Spock's brows furrow, his expression goes intense with concentration and then he shakes his head. "I can not. It was there, the information I could almost recall ..." He trails off gaze distant and then shakes his head again. "But now it's gone." 

 

"Nothing?" McCoy sits forwards slightly. 

 

"I can remember running, someone screaming, Jim is yelling, the red alert sirens. But I don't know why or even if each memory is connected to the same mission." His closes his eyes and presses his fingers to his forehead. 

 

He's quiet for a long minute and then says "Salt." 

 

McCoy blinks at him. "What?" 

 

Spock opens his eyes, blinks. "Salt.  It fed on salt. That was ... important." He's silent again and then "He said it was the last of its kind, that we have a responsibility to not let an entire species die out, but what if that responsibility threatens our own existence?" 

 

He turns to look at McCoy who is watching him with interest. 

 

"What's the answer you came up with?" 

 

Spock rubs his fingers across his forehead again. "I can't remember."

 

They think about that. 

 

An existential question neither of them really understand the context for.

 

McCoy's gaze is drawn inexorably to the huge window in front of them and it's view of the garden. The green swath of yard and trees with the stars above. 

 

He stands and walks over to it, signalling it open so he can step out onto the dew-wet grass. 

 

After a moment there is a rustle of cloth and then Spock is standing beside him, face tipped up to look at the sky.

 

"It seems so strange to think now how many years you and I spent up there." McCoy says. 

 

"Why should it seem strange Doctor? When you've merely stated a fact." 

 

McCoy looks over at him, Spock's strong profile only half visible in the dark, the lines of his body. Spock is like some skillfully crafted stone surface, so smooth and impenetrable in his graceful serenity. McCoy wants to find the cracks, dig his fingers in until he can get to the places where Spock is weak and soft. Not to hurt him, but to remind himself -- or maybe both of them -- that Spock his half human too.   

 

_ What does he look like underneath all those robes, what would he look like if I peeled them off him one by one?  _

 

McCoy breathes out in a small sigh through his nose. "It's strange in the way that what we remember doesn't always match up with what we are experiencing now. Like puzzle pieces that doesn't quite fit. Unless Vulcan's don't believe in playing with puzzles."

 

Spock is looking at him, his mouth doing something that if he were anyone else McCoy would swear is a small smile, but it can't be, not on Spock.

 

"I played with many puzzles as a child, Doctor, although Vulcan's usually refer to them as early developmental cognitive training." 

 

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Of course they do." 

 

Spock looks away, back up at the stars. "It's a good analogy for memory. If a little ..." He hesitated for a moment "human."

 

"Why do you have a Vulcan courtyard in the front of the house but an Earth garden back here?" McCoy asks because he's been wondering about it since he moved in.

 

Spock doesn't look at him, face still tilted up. "My mother always had an Earth garden. All the time I was growing up the back courtyard of our house was always filled with earth plants, trees and flowers. Even despite the fact that it is very difficult to cultivate such plants on Vulcan. It was not a logical thing for her to do but I find difficult to have a home without a garden now." 

 

That's not logical either McCoy wants to point out but he doesn't. After a moment Spock turns and goes back into the house, with a quiet hiss of the glass door shutting behind him.

 

McCoy stands for a few more minutes in the garden, face tipped up, thinking about memories and gardens, of soft, vulnerable places and of stars.

  
Then he goes back inside. 


End file.
